


Heart to Heart, Hand in Hand

by BulletStrong



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Christmas, F/F, Swan Queen - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-02
Updated: 2017-12-02
Packaged: 2019-02-09 08:46:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,302
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12884268
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BulletStrong/pseuds/BulletStrong
Summary: Emma learns to appreciate Christmas, all thanks to her family. Swan Queen.





	Heart to Heart, Hand in Hand

Old Saint Nick usually forgot to pass through her foster homes when she was younger, with only a few exceptions and even then the gifts were cheap and hardly tailored to the individual child. Most of the toys came from social workers that ran charity fundraisers every December. Christmas was viewed as a hefty price tag for foster parents that only fostered for paychecks.

So it wasn’t Emma’s favorite. That title belonged to Halloween because she could easily throw on a sheet with two holes cut out for eyes and blend in with the hordes of children walking the streets, getting free candy and chocolate and hiding it under her bed so she didn’t have to share with the other kids.

As she grew, other holidays gained her appreciation. In her teen years, she started enjoying Valentines Day. She despised the idea that there should be one day a year where you appreciate those you cared for, but she loved the boxes of chocolate she received from her secret admirers, of which she had many.

During her twenties, she gained appreciation for Saint Patrick’s Day. She despised its caricature-like portrayal of the Irish, but she loved going to bars and getting free drinks from men that were too hammered to realize they were practically emptying their wallets for a woman that didn’t plan on repaying them. She started to enjoy July 4th. She despised that the fireworks made her bounty hunter buddy that served in the army lock himself away with earplugs pressed into his ears, but she loved the cookouts, barbeque’s, and alcohol.

When her son appeared on her doorstep and dragged her into a town full of fairytale characters, she began to see the point of Thanksgiving. She despised the dishonest history used to prop it, but she felt warmth as she sat in Granny’s Diner with other stragglers, eating turkey and all the other traditional foods she had never tasted before and listened to old stories, jokes, and laughter. Of course she’d realize not long after that those stories told around that table were a creation of a curse. Still, it was a happy memory and she found she enjoyed every Thanksgiving afterward with her parents, her son, and, much later, Regina.

But Christmas wasn’t appreciated then either. Christmas meant buying presents for parents and a son she didn’t truly know and every stumble with familiarity just reminded her that she grew up without them and she had no idea how to make up for it. So Christmas was a dud. Until Regina changed everything.

After Thanksgiving this year, Regina casually mentioned that it would be nice if neither of them had to spend Christmas Eve or Christmas morning without Henry and Emm tried to act like that wasn’t the best things she’s ever heard. Regina’s soft smile told her she didn’t succeed. Then, not even two weeks later, Regina sauntered into the station and asked her if she’d be willing to spend the night at Mifflin on Christmas Eve so that they could celebrate all together, as a family unit. She didn’t hesitate to agree. And for the first time ever, Emma actually felt like Christmas was growing on her.

She’s thinking this all over as she stands frozen on the front porch of the mansion, listening to the muted sounds of Christmas music coming from inside the dimly lit home. She knows she’s welcome, Regina made that clear, but every insecurity is rearing its ugly head. Would her presence ruin this happiness she can feel radiating from inside the house? She always ruins things.

She shivers as a gust of chilled air sweeps under her red wool coat and turns to glance at her Bug in weary contemplation. She could leave now, just call Regina to tell her she feels sick and won’t be able to make it this year. Henry would be upset and maybe Regina will rip her a new one for disappointing their son, but it’s probably for the best, right? Her feet are more decisive than her mind. She stays rooted to the porch and stares at a spot of chipped paint on the door. She could fix that for Regina. At least she’s good for something.

“Are you going to come in or will I have to literally light a fire under you?” That familiar, husky voice says determinedly and Emma startles. She must’ve been so zoned out, because at some point, the brunette had swung open the door. Regina’s lips are pulled into an amused smirk but there’s concern swimming in her eyes and, before Emma knows it, she’s being pulled into the warm foyer by a soft hand.

“You’re late, Miss Swan.” Regina teases, but her tone lacks any sting. Emma sees her reflection in the mirror by the coat rack and is shocked to see her lips have turned a light shade of purple. God, how long was she standing outside?

“What time is it?” Emma asks, her body and mind still too numb to register Regina’s hands unbuttoning her coat and slipping it off her shoulders to hang it up. If she could adequately register it, she would feel a sense of love and care lingering on the skin Regina’s hands slid over.

Regina checks her dainty silver wristwatch. “Nearly eight.”

She missed dinner. Even when she tries, she fucks up. “Oh... I’m—“

“It’s okay.” Regina kindly reassures. She’s looking at Emma with enough affection to seize her lungs, because she wants it to mean more than it does, but Regina is just being a good friend and Emma has to accept that this is the status quo, no matter how hard it’ll always be to do so.

The warmth in Regina’s gaze, in her lingering touch on Emma’s biceps, is enough to thaw her out just enough. “No... no, it’s not okay. I’m sorry I missed dinner.”

“You didn’t miss it.” Regina corrects her.

“But you said dinner was going to be at six—“

“I did say that to you, but I knew you’d be late, because of the circumstances, so I just started the ham a little later. It’s just about done.” And suddenly Emma can breathe, in and out, because Regina gets her. It’s okay to not be perfect, to maybe ruin things a little bit without too much backlash, to be complicated and not get left behind for it. Regina knew this was new, that having a family and being invited into an established tradition was a novelty for Emma, so she gave her wiggle room. Emma’s lips slam onto Regina’s cheek without a semblance of grace but she feels the cheek puff out under her lips. Regina is smiling.

“Come, Miss Swan, Henry is waiting for you in the living room.” Regina pulls back. The smile is gone but the warmth is still there. “He’s playing that zombie game you brought him and needs help passing a mission.”

Emma hesitates. There’s so much she wants to tell her, but her mouth won’t open and the words feel too heavy. Saying what she wants to say will make things awkward. There’s wiggle room for error but not for blind stupidity. Regina makes the decision for her by turning back and disappearing into the kitchen.

With a sigh, she makes her way to the living room and finds her son lounging on the couch with a controller in his hand. He’s trying to sneak his character, Joel, past some clickers but he turns a corner and gets his neck chewed out. He stomps on the hardwood and growls, “Fuck!”

She bites her lip to hold in a laugh. “If your mom heard you cursing like that, she might keel over and die, just your character did.”

“I’m a man, Ma.” Henry scoffs with an eye roll.

“You’re sixteen.” Emma quirks a brow. “Just be happy she lets you even play these games.”

“Yeah, yeah, just help me get Joel through this train station, will you?”

Emma snatches the controller, plops onto the couch beside Henry, and plays for a while, cursing under her breath every time her character gets bit by a zombie. Her son complains about her hogging the controller but he makes no moves to actually take it. Emma thinks he knows she needs a distraction from the warm air, savory aromatic scent covering every inch of the house, and the twinkling lights glowing from the huge tree in the corner.

Instead he groans every time she beats a mission and continues to the next part without even glancing his way, and reacts dramatically to every false move she makes, and hugs her tight, too tight, when she gets her character through a sticky situation, though it just feels like he’s reassuring that she’s welcome. Emma wonders if Regina mentioned something to him about her possible discomfort.

Not long after she sat, Regina peers around the doorway of the living room and smiles at them as she waves them over. “Dinner is ready. Henry, please set the table. Miss Swan, could you lend me a hand in the kitchen?”

Emma raises a playful brow. She’s a disaster in the kitchen, Regina knows that. The only time she had skills in that particular room was during her year in New York and that was probably thanks to Regina’s memories. God forbid Henry eats too much take out.

But she doesn’t fight her on this and follows Regina into the kitchen so they can transfer all the dishes over to the dining table, where Henry is placing utensils on folded cloth napkins. Cloth. The plates looks expensive, like the ones a foster mom had propped up in a glass case collecting dust. These were the plates she could only look at, not touch or use, but Regina just lowers the ham onto the table and gestures for Emma to do the same.

Regina slices the ham and drops a hefty piece onto each of those really expensive plates. Emma’s mouth salivates as she waits. Do they say grace? Is Regina even religious? She grimaces. She doesn’t really know them. They’ve fought, slowly gained respect for each other, sacrificed for each other, and now have a tentative friendship that dangles on the edge of something more, but she doesn’t know Regina’s favorite color or if she believes in some deity. The small things add up to so much and she’s clueless, and it’s not just Regina either. She knows some things about her son but she had no idea he was allergic to peanuts until she gave him rocky road ice cream two months ago. She couldn’t say if he likes broccoli or if he sleeps with a mountain of pillows or if he’s afraid of needles. It makes her lungs seize for a full minute while she watches Henry shovel loaded mashed potatoes into his mouth.

Then she feels a hand on her knee and whips her gaze to Regina. There’s concern swimming in those brown eyes and Emma reaches down to squeeze the hand that’s traveled a little higher to her thigh. It sets her skin on fire. Henry doesn’t notice the interaction. He’s too busy inhaling the Christmas dinner and chattering about the narrative of his new game. If Emma wasn’t mistaken, Regina seems genuinely interested in the plot, which just made Henry more animated in his storytelling.

When she takes a bite of the glazed ham, she suddenly understands why Henry won’t take a second to breathe between bites. It’s fucking delicious. Then again, Regina has never failed her in the kitchen.

“Jesus, Regina, this is amazing.” Emma chews through the words but freezes when Regina glares at her. She swallows roughly then repeats, “This is really good.”

An almost imperceptible smile pulls at Regina’s lips as she responds, “Of course it is, dear. I cooked it.”

Emma snorts. “So modest, your majesty.”

Regina props her elbow on the table with a resounding smack then raises a brow in challenge as she stares her down. “Confidence adds to my allure, don’t you think?” Regina purrs suggestively, so much so that Henry’s fork pauses midway to his open mouth, his eyes darting between his moms, who were entrenched in a silent stare down.

Emma taps her fork against the much too expensive china as clears her throat. She looks away from the brunette and says, “I guess it does.”

“Well, uh, it’s like Ruby always says, modesty is for losers.” Henry’s comment assuages the tension in the room and the small family unit finishes the rest of the meal with relative small talk and planning for New Years Eve. Snow mentioned that a party at Granny’s was being discussed and hopefully that was still in the cards, because if Granny didn’t host then Snow would and Emma would rather have her teeth pulled than deal with drunk fairytale characters vomiting on her bed again.

“Leroy barfed on my favorite memory foam pillow!” Emma whines about last years party as they settle on the couch to binge watch the Home Alone film series. Regina’s chuckling from her spot by the movie case and Henry is turning red and clutching at his stomach as he throws himself onto the recliner. Emma pouts. “It’s not funny! That thing cost a fortune!”

“Well, dear, that wouldn’t be an issue if your bedroom had a lock... or a door, for that matter.” Regina smirked at her before turning back to her search for the films.

Emma can’t argue with her point though. There’s no space at the loft anymore, not with Neal getting bigger and wanting his own room, and her parents were getting on her last nerve. They eat her prepackaged lunches, they have sex at random hours of the day and Emma’s pretty sure she’ll have a mental breakdown if she sees David’s ass one more time, and Neal is starting to have an attitude about her “hogging the bedroom”. She’s not sure how she hogs it when she’s only ever home to sleep, but the arguments with her seven year old brother were grating on her. She wanted a room to herself, with a door and a lock, and some damn peace and quiet.

“Found it!” Regina jogs to the DVD player. pops in the first movie, then sits right next to Emma on the couch. Deliberately close. She knows it is because there’s no good reason to sit in the middle of the couch, where there’s a giant crease separating the two cushions, when there’s a perfectly comfortable armrest just a few feet to the right.

But Emma isn’t about to look a gift horse in the mouth, not when that horse smells like expensive perfume and aromatic shampoo and has a body that won’t quit and eyes so deep she could drown in them. Yeah, that horse is very much beloved.

At some point during the second movie, Henry falls asleep on the recliner and starts snoring lightly, and Regina scoots closer so their bodies connected from shoulders to toes. The touch is enough to make Emma silently lose her shit. By the end of third movie, Regina’s head has settled on her shoulder and her hand is laid flat against Emma’s quivering thigh, and it’s sort of weird considering they were never physically affectionate. For Emma, touching Regina was like taking a hit of something you knew you could never fully have. It was torture. But now, with Regina draping her body against Emma’s and uttering suggestive comments about the movie quietly enough so only Emma could hear them, she wondered if this was supposed to be a hint. Did Regina want her to make a move? And would she really want her to do so on Christmas Eve?

When they credits roll, Regina staggers over to Henry to wake him and send him off to bed then. Once the teen stomps up the stairs and slams his bedroom door closed, she peers at Emma, hands on hips and a smirk on her lips. “You’re staying the night, correct?”

Emma suddenly feels like prey for some reason. She kind of loves it? “Uh, yeah, that was the plan. Just point me to the guest room.”

“Perhaps a nightcap before we head up?” Regina purrs. She’s already leaning against the cart where she stores the alcohol and decanters so Emma just nods. More time with Regina is always preferable.

They get hammered by midnight, like giggling, stumbling, and affectionate type drunk. Regina tumbles to the hardwood and Emma slides off the couch from laughing so hard. They stay on the chilled floor, pressed together and practically cuddling, and Emma still has the wits about her to briefly wonder where the hell is this heading and why Regina has been so open tonight when she’s usually hidden behind her walls.

“Emma?” Regina whispers comically into the nearly silent room.

“Yes, your majesty?” She pokes at Regina’s ribs, making the brunette grunt in her effort to dodge it but she somehow ends up straddling Emma’s hips instead. Funny how that happens.

Regina’s soft, clumsy hands anchor onto Emma’s broad shoulders as she chuckles darkly, “I have a gift for you.”

Emma just hums. Her thoughts are scrambled by the feeling of Regina’s hands sliding down to her chest, right above her breasts. She’s distracted by them so heavily that she doesn’t notice Regina getting closer until there’s lips pressing against hers, hard and passionate. Emma’s heart stops, but her mind catches up immediately and she kisses back with equal fervor.

It’s ludicrous, really. They were once fated to destroy each other but, little by little, they decimated that fate and made a new story, one where The Evil Queen and The Savior were allies. It didn’t make an ounce of sense to anyone but them, and this... this made too much sense for Emma. This has been coming for years, even through redemptions and slimy soulmates and hell.

And when Regina moans into her mouth, Emma can’t help but roll them over and settle between Regina’s thighs, stroking her breasts through her silky blouse and nipping at her pulse point. It’s fast and rough, and it fitting. They’ve always had a fiery relationship and sex was no different apparently.

“Emma,” Regina sighs, practically breathless under her ministrations, but manages an amused tone even if it’s through pants and groans. “Unwrap your gift.”

Emma doesn’t need to be told twice. She removes Regina’s clothing, placing nips and licks and kisses over every inch revealed, and rips off her own before crawling back up to kiss her, open mouthed and needy. Her hand slides down Regina’s toned belly to slip under the last barrier between them and circle a pulsing clit. The touch is teasing, not looking for a release, and she waits until Regina’s whimpering to slither down, tug the lace panties off, and suck the bundle of nerves into her mouth. Her fingers, two of them, enter Regina and thrust at the same pace as her tongue, and she slowly builds her up until Regina’s hips are grinding against her face.

Emma then lashes the tip of her tongue against Regina’s clit as she curls her fingers to rub at that spot and Regina comes hard. Her nails are digging into Emma’s scalp, her back is arched against the hardwood, and her screams are trapped in the room by the silencing spell Emma put up right as she felt Regina’s inner walls tightening around her fingers.

The Christmas tree lights reflect on Regina’s sweat covered body, the smell of vanilla permeates the air and combines with the scent of Regina’s arousal, and Emma, for the first time ever, looks up at the Christmas decorations and smiles.

She finds she suddenly appreciates Christmas... like a lot.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading and please let me know what you think :)


End file.
